John Terry Loses His Cool After Spurs Fans' Abuse At The Lane

I will not waste your time with a report of the Arsenal game; you all watched it with me, revelling in the ecstasy of victory. Indeed it was a thing of beauty: the melodies of vitriol spewed forth at Judas harmonising with the deafening boo's, Uncle Wenger's leathery old face contorted in disbelieve and disappointment and all set to the beautiful strains of 'We beat the scum 2-1'. Oh and the bitter irony of our two youngsters banging in the goals against an Arsenal defence that enjoyed its vintage years immediately after the defeat of the Armada. 'Arsenal kids'? Only a lingering fantasy in Tony Adams' alcohol ravaged mind. When archaeologists dig up White Hart Lane in thousands of years they will believe we worshipped young Danny Rose as a deity and they wouldn't be far wrong. If the boy never pulls on the shirt again he will still live on forever in Tottenham folklore. In the words of Andy Gray 'Take a bow son, Take.A.Bow'.

I went up to Chelsea expecting little. The injury list looked serious, Chelsea looked strong, 5 wins in 5. We would be tired I thought, just watching the lads since Sunday had me knackered. "Don't expect any favours" went the texts to my scum and Man Utd 'mates'. What actually occurred had me and 30,000 others delirious; two derby wins in two, Top 4 chase back on, the big boys running scared. We didn't just beat Chelsea; we pinned them down, bent them over and gave them the kind of violent and senseless rogering that would have George Michael blushing. It was wonderful,seriously, truly bloody marvellous. Shunted from my usual seat to the South Upper I found myself hugging a balding, sweaty middle aged man like a boy re-united with his biological father (Dad, if you're reading this, please get in touch...sigh...). On 70 minutes they were piling out of the away end, on 80 it was an endless stream leading all the way back to the days when they scrapped for points against West Ham.

Yet one of the most joyous events of the afternoon was the fall and fall of John Terry, beamed out to millions of England fans and all under the watchful eye of Fabio. Once upon a time Terry was a great player, a professional even, but on Saturday he lost every battle; mental, physical and emotional. The result, an early bath as the terraces rang out with adulation for his heir apparent Michael Dawson. Our captain was superb yet again, inspiring confidence amongst all around him. He dealt with the physical presence of Drogba just as easily as the nimble footed, lightweight assaults of the Arsenal. If he doesn't have a place on that plane I will slap Capello personally. Anyway more on him and Ledley (England partnership?) at a later date.

I should perhaps take this opportunity to yet again point out the role the fans have to play in highly charged fixtures like this. Who cares whether Terry actually deserves the abuse he gets? The Premiership is as much of a psychological battle now as it is physical or tactical. In this respect our fanbase are veritable Chess Masters. The Chelsea captain could not escape from the boos, the chants reminding him of his humiliating family life and the accusation he had 'let his country down'. His tackles grew wild and his distribution sloppy, culminating in a confrontation with a fan at half time. His challenges on Defoe and Pav were cynical and his final, fatal lunge at Bale was born of frustration and ineptitude. It was our Welsh prodigy who made the run, who fell to the challenge, yet the target was us. For that gentlemen, I applaud you.

My only slight grumble was at Kaboul. He is a useful player with excellent strength and a surprisingly decent vision and turn of pace. He is however, not a fullback, and spent much of the game being turned inside and out whilst looking lost going forwards. Not your fault lad, you do try hard but we really miss Charlie who made the position his own. As for the rest of the team, exemplary to a man. Thudd and Luka bossing the midfield, BAE looking the player he was at the beginning of the season, Bentley making good runs and tracking back very well. Gomes just showboating with his saves (seriously, watch them again, 'its so easy at the Lane'), Bassong and Dawson rock solid and even Pav leading the line well (albeit it with the finishing powers of an anorexic at a buffet). Defoe still not at peak sharpness but an excellent penalty. Oh yeah and that Welsh kid making the heart shape.Only kidding Gareth, God I heart you too, more than I ever will any woman.

My evening was spent at the Bill Nicholson, smashing down pitchers of booze and screaming out Tottenham chants as yids danced on tables as far as the eye could see. If our seasons ends now it will not all have been in vain. Another memorable year, keep the good stuff coming...

In'ArryWeTrust